


Prologue

by Wizard95



Series: A mutant, a bard and a genie walk into a tavern... [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: I'll add tags as I post, Multi, sorry guys i'm unoriginal trash, what the heck even is that title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25640167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizard95/pseuds/Wizard95
Summary: In which a rabbit and a half-genie both share an unfortunate destiny.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s)
Series: A mutant, a bard and a genie walk into a tavern... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858711
Kudos: 6





	Prologue

The rabbit lets out a short squeak and falls flat on the ground but the silence of the forest at dawn goes unperturbed otherwise. The genie gets on his feet with an equally painful breath.

Not his last, at least.

He’s ever sorry to provide such a quick and gut-wrenching death to the poor things, but his skills with a bow wouldn’t make it better and much less would his inability at stealth when yielding a dagger. My, he definitely would go hungry if he resorted to the common ways of hunting.

But he isn’t common, after all, so _of course_ he stands out on that aspect as well. Mercy be damned. Isn’t inflicting pain supposed to be his way of life? What’s a little rabbit in a long list of casualties? Surely but a scratch.

He walks up to it and picks it up with a wince, watching the smoke emanate from the charred fur with something that should be pity but doesn’t quite manage to. Too soon. The effects of his last granted wish are still bubbling up under his skin. He can’t muster any kind of comforting thought, either, so he just purses his lips and turns around to toss it beside his current seat: a rock.

Next he unfolds the engraved dagger from his belt and starts peeling the fur off with absent boredom. The sun has set by the time he’s done and the rabbit joins the few leaves and pitiful white potato inside the pot.

Just to pass the time.

Just to feel a little bit civilized.

“There you go,” he says, as he flops back down on the protruding rock. “You’ll be my first meal in two days, if that makes it any better.”

With a quick flick of his hand the flame under the pot comes alive.

“And stew! I haven’t had stew in... at least two weeks! You should be honoured I’m not just roasting you and picking at your bones like a famished wolf” he continues, his mouth starting to water not long after, his stomach rumbling and his hands anxiously closing in and out into fists as he quietly listens to his surroundings.

The canopy of trees above shouldn’t let the smoke out so easily but still, as he looks up he can’t help but think he should’ve waited to have a proper meal once he reached the town, at a proper inn, have some proper sustenance and not just what’s left of the small bag of potatoes he snatched on his way out of the castle. Why even bother? It’ll just taste plain without any spices anyway.

If only he’d snatched a bag of that too.

“Too busy not getting fucking beheaded” he blurts out to himself, standing up to peep inside the bubbling water with expectation. The more he stares at the floating scrapes of vegetable the more he regrets putting any effort into it at all.

The building a fire part he can do nicely. The actual _cooking_? Well.

Shit.

He’s become rather picky, it seems.

_Yeah, a whole month of banquets on endless tables will do that to you._

It’s just for the sake of having a breath, really. Setting up camp - if a laid out cloak and a sorry excuse for a proper fireplace can be considered _a camp -_ wasting time foraging around for any edible plants and crouching down behind a bush for nearly forty minutes until his main course decided to hop by.

He darts his eyes off the rabbit alongside the green leaves and goes back to the rock.

“You could’ve given me a heads up, you bastard” he mumbles to himself again, “I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish you wouldn’t be such a useless pansy.”

He’s probably got the whole knight guard after him now. Fucking marvelous. And that shit-eating slug is probably fucking the maids on the nobleman’s bed already. What time is it again? He’s probably been doing it since morning. Since Monday! And the Monday before _that_ Monday!

“But then again, you were an even more useless adviser, weren’t you...”

Why does he always land such heinous ones? Why is it that after all this time, he’s still not the least bit less gullible? He knows it’s on him, really, for falling for it so easily.

Percyvell could go on forever listing up adjectives to describe each and every one of his past masters. Selfless pricks. Greedy. Needy. Whiny. _Damn_ his luck.

Damn his luck and damn the bloody mage who fucked his mother.

And damn _genies_!

His hands close into fists again and the flame under the pot suddenly fires up with rage. He stumbles out of his sitting place with a start and approaches it.

“No, no, sorry” he whispers, now opened palms hovering over the black piece of pottery, “sorry, lost my temper there.”

It subsides almost instantly.

And he lets out a relieved breath.

Now _that_ would’ve been the icing of the fucking cake, wouldn’t it.

Carbonized rabbit.

“Please don’t turn into carbon,” he asks to the floating corpse.

In the end, it doesn’t matter at all. The meat still hasn’t been properly cooked by the time the sound of galloping horses makes its way to his ears and there’s a voice at the back of his mind telling him that he’s _an idiot, you naive little piece of shit, playing up chef while there’s a bounty on your head, real clever!_

He puts out the fire with a wave of his hand just as he conjured it and picks up the cloak from the ground. The pot he leaves hanging there - after giving it a good kick, that is, because he’ll be damned if he’s going to leave a nicely arranged wanna-be stew all ready for his captors to enjoy.

He does get the rabbit, though. Snatches it with a hurried motion and starts running off even further from the beaten track.

“Well, it seems I’ll be picking at your bones after all” he gasps, jumping over a fallen log and holding his hat in place as the sound of horses becomes ever so loud.

**Author's Note:**

> More to come! Let me know what you think (: I recently watched the Netflix adaptation, I have no knowledge of the books or videogames, though I've been brushing up on wikia a bit. You know, like a responsible author... (No I'm not.) Anyhow, [CHECK OUT THESE POSTERS I MADE](https://smuggsy.tumblr.com/post/625211806290509824/posters-for-my-witcher-fanfiction-a-totally) on tumblr! I'm quite proud of how they turned out. **Important** : don't subscribe to _this_ , subscribe to the series. As this won't be chaptered, you won't be notified when I post a new part if you subscribe to the prologue. I'll update as parts of the series, not by adding up chapters.


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